when i was 13 years old, i could easily name all the professions i DIDN'T want to be. not a doctor (eww, too much blood), or a vet (too many dogs), not a teacher (kids are annoying), or the president (not enough power). other than that, my options were open.
just 4 years later, i walked shakily to a podium and urged my classmates to build their dreams into beautiful castles. to gather the stones of their own journey and refuse to look back. my mind danced with visions of literary greatness, political lobbying, and covert ops.
then college happened. what had been previously praised as limitless options was tied down by the label "undecided." no major seemed to point directly to where i wanted to be, so i tried advertising. the idea of being my own think-tank appealed, and the thought of writing short messages for the world was a strong seductive force.
for a time.
now i teach. i demonstrate, i mold, i provide the foundation for other peoples' dreams. it is a noble and wonderful profession. and yet some days it's not enough. some days i open the blueprints of my castle and grieve for the stones not gathered. and lately i wonder if "undecided" has forever captured my limitless options.
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